


Wedding Night

by cerulean17



Category: The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt
Genre: M/M, One Shot, idk how to do tags sry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 04:36:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13942734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cerulean17/pseuds/cerulean17
Summary: Theo and Kitsey get married, but when she goes to Tom on their wedding night, he calls up Boris.





	Wedding Night

Kitsey and I were married in May. It was a very nice wedding: expensive centerpieces, looping cursive on the invitations, and a short guest list which included Boris and Tom Cable.  


Boris walked in the door to the venue hours early, while I was in the men's section of the "getting ready" house.

"Potter!" He cried when he saw me, "Marrying Ice Princess after all! Was very surprised to receive that invitation."

I startled a bit, completely caught off guard by his presence. He hadn't RSVP'd and honestly the invitation was more a show of friendship than an actual invite to the wedding. I'd assumed he would be off today doing whatever renowned criminals do, and I would get a 'congratulations' email later on.

He saw me start, and grinned, walking over to me, "Potter," he said again, "very exciting day. Meant to be happiest of your life, no?" 

I laughed at that. No, this would not be the happiest day of my life. Marrying Kitsey was a farce. A show we were putting on for Mrs. Barbour and her elite friends. I would smile, greet everyone, and say my part of the vows, but I would not be at my happiest doing it.  
I explained some of this to Boris, keeping my voice low, and he socked me on the shoulder. 

 

"No love! Marrying only for in-laws! Terrible reasons!" He pointed at me accusingly, not hiding the amusement on his face. "Knew you weren't over Redhead," he said, "was why I was surprised to get your invitation."

I glared at him, knowing he knew I hated when he brought up Pippa. "What about you?" I said, "what about Astrid? When did you see her last?" He held his hands up in front of him. I surrender, they said. "Is true," he said aloud, "I am bad husband, but now we can be bad husbands together." 

I smiled a bit and shook my head, "Ok Boris, whatever you say." 

The rest of the day went by in a blur. I put on my tuxedo, walked out into the real venue, and stood under the arch, when Kitsey walked out. She looked beautiful, of course, but I couldn't help but notice her glance at Tom before looking at me. Oh well, I thought, at least she'll be happy with him, and Mrs. Barbour will be happy with us being married. I glanced at Hobie in the second row and he smiled at me, completely aware of the sham this wedding was, but happy to have seen me happy earlier in the day when he had walked in on Boris and I roaring with laughter while trying to tie my tie. 

Kitsey's walk up the aisle took an eternity, but when she finally reached me, the ceremony took no time at all. We had designed it to be short and sweet, and it worked. We said our "I do"s, put on each other's rings, and kissed chastely when the officiant pronounced us husband and wife. 

I looked at her and noticed my moms earrings. Kitsey had been right, they didn't match her at all.

Following the wedding was the reception. We ate cake, danced (badly, on my part), and mingled with our guests, with me staying close to Boris the whole time, before finally heading home.  


Home, for Kitsey and I, was currently the room at the apartment she shared with her two roommates. I still had my room at Hobie's, and spent most of my time there, and I knew Kitsey spent most of her time at Tom's, so "our room" didn't see much of us. I can't imagine what her roommates thought.

Before leaving the reception venue, I said my goodbyes to everyone, and saved the last goodbye for Boris, who promised to stay in New York for a while so we could see each other soon. "Must see Popchyk!" He cried, "cannot leave without seeing my dog!"

When Kitsey and I reached the apartment, her roommates, who had been at the wedding, weren't back yet. I assumed, given that we had just gotten married, that we were going to consummate our marriage, and had just leaned in to kiss her, when her phone buzzed in her bag. "Oh," she held up her pointer finger, "one second Theo." She read the text, and looked at me guiltily, and I knew what was coming. Tom had texted. 

"Just go," I said, "I promise it's not a big deal." She smiled bright and kissed me on the cheek, 

"I'll see you soon, ok?" She said, anxious to reassure me she wasn't leaving me so soon after our wedding.

"Of course." I smiled down at her and helped her gather her things, and then she was gone, and I was alone on my wedding night. I pulled out my phone. 

 

Theo:  
Want to come over?

Boris:  
On night of your wedding?  
Where is ice princess?

Theo:  
She left, and I've got a full bottle of vodka at Hobie’s

Boris:  
If you are sure

 

We met at the apartment on West 10th an hour later, and Hobie greeted us with surprise, but warmth. "Kitsey stepped out for the night?" He asked. I nodded affirmatively, "We've come for the vodka," I told him, and he chuckled, "Of course, you know where it is."

Upon heading to the kitchen, we heard Popchyk running down the hall as fast as his tiny old legs would carry him, and he began to squeal when he saw Boris with me. Boris whooped with delight and promptly sat down on the floor to pet him, allowing Popchyk to crawl on him and lick his face. "Popper!" He cried, "Sweet little Popchyk you!" The old dog had seen Boris many times in the past two years we'd been back in touch, but he always greeted Boris with the same unending enthusiasm. 

We headed back to Welty's old room with Popper on our heels after grabbing the bottle (I still thought of it as Welty's room, though it had been mine nearly 10 years) and thus began my wedding night. It seemed appropriate that I should share it with the most important person in my life, though maybe that should've been Kitsey and not Boris, considering she was the one I had just made a life commitment to. 

I thought about that for a second. Kitsey and I were both spending our wedding nights with the people we were happiest with, and, sad as it may be, that wasn't each other. 

Boris caught my moment of melancholy. "Stop thinking," he chided, "and drink." He opened the bottle and handed it to me and I took a long swig before handing it back for him to do the same. Cups had never been necessary for the two of us, not in Vegas and certainly not now. 

We continued in that fashion, handing the bottle back and forth while making inane comments, until the bottle (and Popchyk, tired of our antics and having retired to his bed) was gone. 

I looked at Boris. "Now what?" I asked, most of the way to being drunk, but with Boris the alcoholic far behind me. 

He looked at me with vaguely bloodshot eyes and crooned "Gyuri."

We called Gyuri despite the time (it had to be at least one in the morning) and he, faithful driver  
that he was, brought us another bottle to Hobie's apartment. He departed immediately, despite our invitation to stay, and I opened the second bottle right there in the doorway and took another drink. Boris grabbed the bottle from my hands to take a drink of his own, and then we headed back to Welty’s room to finish it off. 

About halfway through the second bottle, the topic I had been avoiding all night came tumbling out of my mouth. Kitsey. 

“Boris,” I said, “I think I was an awful boyfriend to Kitsey.” I slurred my words slightly, “I should've been better, I love her, in a way, and now I'm going to be a terrible husband” 

Boris scoffed, “Bullshit. You don't love her.”

I got offended, “How the hell would you know who I love! You're barely even around! You hardly know us!”

It was Boris’s turn to get mad, “Hardly know you! Who was it took care of you all those nights! Who comes from around the world to see you! Pfft, hardly know you. You, I know better than you know yourself, and that's how I know you don't love her.”

The alcohol, which I had put down but Boris was still drinking, was exacerbating our argument, but I didn't care. I shoved him. “Shut up! I do love her! She's my wife!”

“Then where is she!” He yelled at me, “where is she on the night of your wedding! Fucking someone else that's where!”

I couldn't take it anymore, I stood up, and Boris pulled me back down onto the bed. 

“I know you don't love her.” He said, and pulled me down and kissed me. 

I say there in utter shock, not pulling away but not kissing him back and said, “Boris, what the motherfuck?” against his lips. 

He pulled away, “I know you don't love her,” he said, “because I know who you love.” And pulled me in for another kiss, which this time I returned before pulling away again. 

“Boris,” I said, “what the hell.”

Boris clicked his tongue, “Over ten years and you think I never knew? Have known since Vegas you loved me, even if you did not know yourself.” His words slurred slightly and I realized he was right. 12 years we had been friends, closer than friends, brothers even, but there had always been more. More that I had refused to see. I leaned in hesitantly and kissed him, and he grabbed the back of my neck and pulled me down fully onto the bed, the now empty bottle of vodka falling onto the floor. 

I don't know how long we stayed like that, kissing desperately in a way we never had in Vegas, until finally I rolled over and looked at him. “Now what?” I said, unsure as to where we stood. 

He looked at me, and his gaze was gentler than I'd ever seen it. “Now, Potter,” he said, “we go from here.” 

I smiled and leaned in for one more kiss before whispering “Good night.”

“Good night, Theo.” 

And I knew he'd be there in the morning.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! This is my first time writing in a long time and my first time writing Theo/Boris! Let me know of any inconsistencies or slip ups! Always open to constructive criticism and comments!


End file.
